INB 7 - You Hit Me!

In this chapter, Biff questions the Devil's 'touch' and suggests that Miranda may not even be an atheist...

“God you look flushed.” Biff said, relaxing his karate pose.

Miranda. That would be the worst thing. If she dies, how can I cope? What will I do? I know I’ll lose the bet, but this isn’t about that anymore. This is a life: one that I care about nearly as much as Biff’s. Unless the Devil’s lying. She’s always tricking me. Always trying to make me second guess my moves, my thoughts.

“Did I miss something again?” Biff asks.

I sigh, still frozen. I’m unsure what to do " all I know is, my body’s started shaking, and a feeling, right from my stomach makes my sway, like this was...all unreal...maybe I...need rest. Miranda will be fine. I have to repeat that.

“Miranda will be fine.” I whisper.

“What?” Biff asks, taken aback. “Why wouldn’t she?”

I turn around. “Biff, the Devil’s come again. She was acting unlike her, and I’m really worried about Miranda. I think I really care about her and I feel like I’ve been threatened and this hotel room...I can’t do anything to stop it! The Devil might go and kill her personally - she might turn up at Miranda’s house and stab in her bed and I can’t protect her! I’ll be dragged down to Hell-”

I start pacing, my words are racing and Biff’s looking perplexed. The carpet’s rough like the inside of my chest as the pains throb harder - my uselessness in life, my lack of power, my inability to save the innocent is all building upon my shoulders and-

“Ow!”A hard, thick pointed object stabs my foot, like a snake in the grass, catching me unaware. The object pushes against my skin as I fall to the floor, placing my hands out in time.

Lying down, I regain my breath. Though my foot’s throbbing, the shock of the fall’s somewhat absorbed my anger, my despair. Calm, I get up, and feel for the object.

Right by the bed, a red heel to something. I toss the covers up over the bed, and a bright red heel lies sideways on the carpet.

The Devil.

She kicked her shoes off when she climbed onto my bed. She’s still ruining everything, even literally tripping me up and Miranda could be dead already and I have no way of helping or stopping it " I’m just being my stupid hopeless self! In my haste, I grip the shoe around its heel and toss it out the open window; the forceful thrust of my arm sending it flying.

“OW!” A man’s voice.

I run to the window.

In the blurry night, I can make out a blonde head, probably the man, holding groceries in one hand and rubbing his head with the other. Curiously, he looks at the shoe.

From here, I can’t see his expression, or his face, but I don’t need to. I just hurt someone. I could’ve given him a concussion. Am I just as bad as the Devil? I could’ve killed him. Just like how she’s probably off to kill Miranda.

“Did you hit someone with that shoe?!” I look to Biff. His expression reveals confusion, fear and surprise.

“Yeah,” I look down, repulsed. Maybe the Devil’s got me so uneasy, that I could end up killing Miranda? I need to control myself. Nothing will happen!

“It’s okay, you’ll probably never see him again!” Biff smiles, but I can see the worry in his eyes. Do I look insane? Am I that man that everyone likes and then suddenly, I have an outburst, just once, and then I’m a threat?

“You’re probably right.” I smile, reluctantly, and sit at the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid for Miranda.”

“Are you? And what did you throw at that guy?”

“The Devil’s shoe.”

Biff looks like a thought strikes him, like he’s suddenly realised the reason for everything happening in life. “If she left one shoe here, it probably was an accident. I’ll bet that she’s losing her touch. That you’re getting worried over nothing.”

He flutters up into the air, excited, “I’ll even bet, that something bad is happening to her. She’s getting worried because you’re getting on so well with Miranda.”

I look up at him, silently. He’s right. “So it wasn’t deliberate?”

“Not at all.” Biff’s smug, typical confident smile reaches his eyes. “Chances are, she hasn’t noticed the shoe’s missing " she’s out there now, I bet, wondering why she rises on one side when she walks!”

I smile, Biff’s absolutely right.

“Haha, and I’ll bet she’s lost the plot completely " that Miranda’s not even an atheist!” He beams, but my lips relax.

I say, gently, “She’s not an atheist.”

The next day, I’m looking in the mirror, adjusting a tie. “I think we need to tell Miranda about our religion - see if it’s true that she doesn’t believe.”

Biff floats around, rummaging through a bookshelf, flicking the books with his tiny fingers. “Tell her you’re an author. That Bella chick is gonna want to know where you work, you haven’t given her your details and they do ask you at these kinds of places.”

Me writing a book - no, that wouldn’t work. I can be boring, but I wouldn’t have the patience to sit down and do it. “What’s the book about?”

“Us.” Biff says, sticking out a tongue like he’d come up with the best idea ever.

 “I prefer coffee, if that’s okay.” I tell Miranda, but kindly.

“Sure.” She quietly says, green fresh-looking flicking up, for a split second, to meet mine.

Was that look shyness? Is she embarrassed to see me? She told me I was great. She’s thinking, Oh, it’s Guy. Oops. What will Nick think? What would he think if he knew such a dapper man-

No, that’s not how she thinks. But Biff would probably say she does!

Purposefully, I take out a notebook Biff pointed out to me on our way here.

“When you’re in there, be a big show off, act like you’re the big man!

I thought at first that he was joking, but when I turned to him, his face was deathly serious.

I found myself flicking through the notebook - though I knew it was empty. He told me to take random notes on the way to Forenzo’s, but to make sure they mentioned his name and a general plot.

Make sure you write the Devil’s name and do a mind map - make it look like you’re doing something. Girls like it when guys are busy and have no tiem for them. Don’t sit around - yeah I watch you do this - don’t sit around all nervous and shy then respect her. She won’t notice that! You’ve gotta push her around, make her work for it. None of this, ‘oh I’ll talk to you like a friend’ act. I wanna know you’re doing this.”

But sitting here now, none of his advice feels right. If that’s how it was meant to be, then why did she let me walk her home? If was too nice and dull, wouldn’t she have just said, ‘No.’ But maybe she’s too nice herself - too nice to tell me “No” when in fact, I’d made an assumption.

Hastily, I put the notebook on the table as Miranda makes her way back to me.

 “I’m an author” I randomly say, and feel my insides knot. Sorry Biff, I failed. “I have this idea for a story.” I smile, nervously.

Miranda seems like she was only half listening, “Mmm?”

“Yeah, it’s fiction.” Her body looks free, her movements are fluid, but my arms feel stuck at my sides.

“Oh!” She beams, now hearing what I’ve said, “You write? Wow!”

 Is she impressed, or humouring me? No, I have to listen to the confident ‘Guy’ that isn’t me.

“God, you’ve had my help this whole time, but I think you can tackle this one solo,” Biff winked.

“Do you think I’ll fail?”

Biff sniggered. “Epically.”

“What stories? Romance, humour, oh I hope it’s humour!” She playfully taps my arm with her free hand, “Cuz you’re so funny.”  She beams, her eyes squinting, her nose wrinkling up, not just for happiness, but because the sun bursts through the window on her gleaming, flawless skin," her hair, in this dazzling light, looks  so shiny, that blonde streaks appear. I haven’t stopped looking at her for at least 5 seconds.

“What’s it about, if you don’t mind my asking?” Her excitement’s faded, as if my stare has unnerved her. It’s replaced by bashfulness, her eyes flicking up to me, but back down again.  It seems like she’s afraid to look at me, as if even the slightest bit of eye contact would convince her that all her life has been a lie, or that by even looking at me her relationship is over.

After a moment, I realise I’m staring. Epically.

I won’t fail.

“There’s...this God.” I begin to say, “He comes to Earth and meets this fantastic girl with beautiful eyes and amazing outlook on life.” I beam, my eyes shifting between both of Miranda’s, hoping she’ll get my hint, but no matter how long I look, she won’t make eye contact.

Her smile is cautious, “That’s sounds so sweet. But are you religious...or” By her tone, it sounds like she’s fishing. Almost like part of her is wondering if I’m crazy, yet the other part is astonished because she shouldn’t want to know anything about me.

“Miranda, I’m a little religious but don’t-” I’m coming across as defensive! This isn’t going to work! Miranda thinks I’m nuts already.

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Miranda waves dismissively, “I don’t mean to sound...intolerant. I don’t know.” She licks her pale pink lips, struggling for words.  Why is this getting so difficult? We got along so well last night!

“How about you tell me more about your story?  What notes have you made?” She perks up, trying to peek at my notebook.

“Nah, ah, ah” I say, quickly clutching it to my chest. Then I think. The Devil said that last night. ‘Ah, ah, ah, Don’t be a bad boy’...ew. I shrug off the chills, and continue.

“God’s just a typical man and he’s thwarted by this extremely sexual, manipulative Devil.” I feel the pits of my stomach stirring again, that woozy feeling of that fear for Miranda.

My brow furrows, “She’s always trying to ruin things for him and he’s sick of it.” I am sick of her. How she overpowers me. She leaves that atmosphere in the room like a rotten soul lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce, the cruel hearted, dominating monster that twists the thoughts in your mind to make you play the game the way she wants.

“God’s a man? I’m confused.” Miranda says. “I like that you’ve made the Devil a woman, but they’re not really opposites. Why not a little girl? You’re always supposed to think they’re innocent.”

“It would be ironic,” I nod. It doesn’t even matter " I’m not writing a book. But to please Miranda, I make a branch on my mind map of the Devil, lying it down on the table so she can see me scribble, Devil, young girl.

Looking up, I see Miranda’s lips form a smile. She’s looking at the page. Am I respecting her opinion too much? Should I have said, ‘Yeah, it’s a good idea but mine are better!’ That’s what Biff wanted.

“I like the mind map.” Miranda pokes the page, her sharp looking nail painted red.

“When did you do your nails?” I ask, a little shocked. Red. Had The Devil got to her before? Had Miranda walked into a beauty salon and the Devil do her nails?

‘A nice, passionate red " would your boyfriend like that?’ She would smile, maliciously.

“Oh, my nails? I painted them this morning. It was either red or blue, and blue felt a little too safe. I don’t want to be bland. I want to stand out.”

“Why would someone like you ever need to stand out? You already do!” I smile, enthusiastically, noticing for the first time her eyes are no longer shy, that she’s meeting my gaze.

“No one thinks I stand out. They think I’m a plain Jane.” She frowns down at the floor.

“You’re far from it.” Should I be complimenting her? I shouldn’t, Biff would say that I should tell her that plain is a compliment and that I think she’s ugly. No, I don’t have the courage to insult her and I definitely don’t want to push her away if I am doing things right.

“Thank you, Guy.” Her voice has a lyrical tone to it, like a magical twinge of happiness poking through her shy exterior.

“But uh, can I know more about your character, God? What can he do?” She looks at me, expectant.

“God has powers, but they’re limited. He’s not the God you know.” It sounds like I’m doing a narrator’s voice on a trailer " I sound stupid. Oh, I have to remember " mention Biff. “He has this small friend too, who helps him get through the tough times.”

“Why does he have one friend? Where are all the other people in Heaven?” Miranda seems surprised, like I’m supposed to stick to the bible, and that anything else would be ‘rebellious.’

“There aren’t any. When people die, they die. They’re gone.” I clarify, but wished I’d lied.

She narrows her eyes, and not just against the sunlight, “You can’t believe in God and the bible then say that there’s no life after death. You believe it all or none of it.” Miranda spins round, her long bouncing waves swishing around after her, as she walks off to another customer.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! Someone bangs the window, and I see Biff, pressing his face up against the glass. His words are mumbled, but I can make them out, “You treat her bad, like I said?”

I nod, aware of an elderly woman glaring at me from another table.

Biff flies on through the restaurant’s door as a blonde man enters, “That Miranda’s whiny!” He says, but I keep my eyes on the blonde man, hoping deep down that he wasn’t the man I hit.

His trousers are torn at the knees, his shirt grey with a brown stain on the chest. His shoes are worn, and I feel sorry for him. He looks like he’s struggled through life: his hair’s gelled neatly, but as if he’s trying to make up for the rest of his appearance. He hasn’t be blessed with good looks either, he’s an everyday average looking man, with a typical stride and of a medium build. Luckily, his speech is clear, and contrasts with his looks. His voice is smooth and deep, a calm man that knows how to win others to his way of thinking - a man of intelligence despite his hard life.

“Miranda!” He calls, pulling out a stool at the bar, “I was wondering if you’d like to visit the Museum later. They’ve got a new exhibit I’d like to take you to.”

My eyes flick to Miranda - walking swiftly to him. Her eyes squint, her lips curve upwards, as she gets behind the bar.

Though we may not have the same beliefs about religion, we could be strong together. She’s opinionated, strong. Normally, quite personable and confident. And look at her, talking to that guy, probably her brother, she’s smiling and chatting...wait.

“God? Isn’t that the guy you hit?”

This is getting worse than I thought. Hey Miranda, you know him? Well I assaulted him last night. Whacked at shoe at his head.

What’d he do wrong? Her eyes would widen, hoping for a reason.

Oh, nothing I was angry and took it out on him.

Before I’ve processed it, I’m already sitting next to the blonde man. His profile’s normal " a straight nose, a dull looking gray eye, nothing special. I keep expecting there to be something miraculously amazing about this man " like secret hidden powers " that at any moment, he’ll rip off his shirt and blast through the ceiling like superman or The Green Lantern.

“Hey, Nick.” Miranda addresses the blonde man. “You okay, Guy?”

She must see the colour’s drained from my face. I can see it in the reflection of a spoon in her hand.

Nick turns to me as well. A split second passes, where he doesn’t recognise me and a flood of relief washes over me.

Until the moment his eye twitches " like he could swear my face was familiar somewhere, like he’d seen it before.

Nick inched closer, inspecting my face. “I know you. You were the guy that hit me!” You hit me, with that shoe!”

My only response? “Oops.”

 

Author's Note

Finally finished the chapter! Please review :)

Reviews

[deepblue04]

wow, could the chapter be broken up???

[Persona]

I like longer chapters, like real books. I know the trend these days is to have shorter ones (I finished a book yesterday that had 3 pages per chapter) but I like the length. I've noticed you've reviewed quite a few things thank you! ^^

[deepblue04]

no problem, but for a website, it's a tad tedious...